


The Moon Seen Through a Window

by DemiCas



Category: Cardcaptor Sakura
Genre: Angstfest, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, One Shot, POV First Person, Sad, Yue POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 10:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8976217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemiCas/pseuds/DemiCas
Summary: "Yukito has found his happiness. I don’t begrudge him that. He has his life with Touya and the world, and it is so full there is very little room for regret or recriminations. He throws himself into life with the wonder of the child he is, and everyone around him is illuminated, like the moon by the sun. Watching him, I ache for the joy I once had. I knew how to live once, but since Clow’s death I feel I have lost my way."





	

**Author's Note:**

> I consider this an AU (alternate universe) fic. It doesn’t really fit in with how I ultimately see Yue, but I do believe it’s a legitimate interpretation, based on what we learn of Yue’s personality in the anime. Basically, there are two ways to view Yue’s sexuality (or lack thereof), and I believe them both and can work with them both. This fic is based on one of these views.
> 
> Fandom: Original _Japanese_ anime  
>  Spoilers: If you don’t know who Yue is, back away slowly. This fic would be best enjoyed by people who’ve seen the entire anime – preferably with a bottle of Syrah and a cd of melancholy piano concerti...  
> The Ferengi Print: I am not now, nor have I ever been, a member of the Communist Party. Oops, wrong disclaimer... um, let me see... Oh yes: I do not own any of these characters mentioned below. They were all created by CLAMP, whom may the gods always bless. I do not receive any compensation for writing these fics, apart from warm fuzzies.

.

I know I shouldn’t be watching.

I promised myself – I promised Yukito – that I would respect his life, short though it be compared to my own. He can’t help why he was created, or how – no more than I can. We both have our own thoughts, our own secrets, our private dark nights when we hope no one is looking. All we can do is dance this strange dance of respect and shared life, hoping to find what happiness we can. 

Yukito has found his happiness. I don’t begrudge him that. He has his life with Touya and the world, and it is so full there is very little room for regret or recriminations. He throws himself into life with the wonder of the child he is, and everyone around him is illuminated, like the moon by the sun. Watching him, I ache for the joy I once had. I knew how to live once, but since Clow’s death I feel I have lost my way.

(Yukito is moving his mouth over Touya’s. Touya’s breathing is rapid and shallow. His eyes are closed and a fine sheen of sweat makes his golden skin glow in the low light of their bedroom. Yukito had lit candles – for romance, he said. Touya had laughed and swung Yukito onto the bed without ceremony. I watched it all – ashamed, perhaps, but with no apologies.)

I thought I died, once. I thought I died with Clow, as he sat there in peaceful arrogance before the window, calmly telling us that it was his time. My heart broke against the edge of that serene smile, and I cursed him for it. He sent me into the book, and in my pain I was content to stay there, dead, or sleeping. Despite Clow’s talk of a new Master, I hoped never to be awakened.

I woke a hundred years later to a new land and a new mistress and a divided heart. 

Clow had not felt the need to split Kerberos in two, crude and unsophisticated though the Sun Guardian is. Clow had faith in him and believed he could do the job of guiding Sakura in his own being, if not in his original form. But he didn’t trust me. I was flawed somehow, and he left me alone to sleep until the end, creating Yukito instead, a happy, smiling child to be there for Sakura when she needed help or a friend. 

I wasn’t good enough.

I don’t know how Clow expected me to live, after the Judgment. I almost expected Yukito to disappear when his job was done, but of course he didn’t. As time passed, I realised that Clow had never had any intention of returning me to my unbroken self. He had always planned that Yukito, once created, would continue to live as a normal human being, for a full span of years. And though in this his will was disappointed, Clow had even intended that Yukito fall in love with the predestinate Mistress of the Cards, to be by her side always. A human face for the world.

I have tried to accept the situation; it would be madness not to. I could spend my life like a wild bird in a cage, gnawing out my own heart, but though I am not human, neither am I a fool. I confronted Clow’s reincarnation, yes. I was angry. I argued, I snarled. Had I had more of Kerberos’ spirit, I would have screamed like a fishwife. But in the end it had come to nothing. Clow was gone, and Eriol was someone else, and I was left with no choice but to move on. I have tried. I sleep. I serve the Mistress. I stay out of the way. 

(What are they feeling, lying there in the warm dark, bodies pressed against each other, no words but fragments of names and the hoarse, harsh panting between muscle contractions? Do they feel the exhilaration of fighting, of feeling one’s sinews move perfectly at one’s command? Is it like the energy of magic, coursing through your veins like wine to explode in fierce, savage joy from your fingertips? Is it like flying, when you laugh at the pull of the earth, free in the bright bitter air of space?)

I remember once: I was angry with Clow, and I stormed out of the house and flew up onto the roof. I left my magic behind me and opened myself to the mercy of the worlds’ gravity, with only bare feet and wings for balance. The night was still. I was alone except for a young moon sinking towards the black horizon and the old stars pale before its light. I unbound my hair and let it fly in the winter breeze; I knew I would pay in snarls and elf-locks, but it felt good to have it loose, and to feel the moonlight and starlight on my skin, and to pretend I was free.

Kerberos found me later and laughed at me, sulking on the roof. I was irritated at first, tired of his clumsy affection and that uncouth (it seemed to me) Osakan accent, but as he teased and cajoled, I realised I was lonely, up there in the silent grey of pre-dawn, so I came inside and made the Master tea and Clow combed my matted hair. There was nothing missing, then. 

(They are touching each other gently now, moving slowly. Touya’s face is unguarded, as I rarely see it, filled with wonder. When he reaches his hand out to stroke Yukito’s cheek, his eyes open and speak the words his mouth cannot always say: _I love you, you are everything to me, I can’t believe you are here with me, no one is as happy as I am right now._ )

Clow touched me. I am not incapable of sensation. When he spoke to me, he would often stroke my cheek or lay his hand upon my breast. His touch burned like liquid fire, and I felt pride and joy that I was worthy to be touched. More wonderful still, Clow would sometimes brush my hair, in the evenings before the fire, his hands gentle with the fine silver strands so apt to tangle. It was soothing, and I would sit on the ground before him and rest against his legs as he sat in his chair. I was happy. 

And then, when the darkness overcame him, Clow would come to me and lay his head upon my knees, sometimes weeping, sometimes silent and shaking. I would comfort him, running my hands through his night-black hair, and my own hair would fall unbound like moonlight around us both. 

I gave him what I could; I thought I gave him enough.

But once, in the garden, as the cherry tree sent blossoms whirling through the spring air like snow, Clow came up behind me and laid his hand upon my waist and his cheek upon my hair. When I turned to him, unmoved and puzzled, his eyes flickered with an emotion I even now cannot decipher, and he stepped back, his hands falling to his sides. He apologised and went back into the house.

Did I fail his expectations? How? I _did_ love him, fiercely, in the only way I knew how. I protected him, served him, cared for him. I would have broken my body on bare stone for him, if he had asked. He angered me sometimes, and I would push myself away, but always I came back, drawn to him as the moon is drawn in its orbit around the earth. I was happy sitting with him, or reading to him when his eyes were tired. In his last illness, I helped him bathe and carried him to his chair by the window. Wasn’t this love? What more could he have wanted from a being of his own creation?

(They have nearly finished their ritual. Touya’s hips are moving steadily, thrusting deep. Yukito has wrapped his legs around Touya’s waist; his hands are digging into Touya’s shoulders. He has thrown his head back in ecstasy, a wordless howl building in his throat. Touya is murmuring over and over, “love you love you love you love you—” Then it is done, and they relax with each other, Touya gently withdrawing and Yukito gathering his lover into his arms. Their voices are hoarse and tired and happy.)

I am not human, and I do not know why. Yukito is human. Kerberos, despite his outward appearance, is more human than I. Why did Clow create _me_ this way, so remote from the emotions, desires, and even the physical responses of the people I am sworn to protect? Why is my joy only in service, or in fighting or flying, and not in the embrace of a creature like myself, distinct yet intimate, sharing flesh and breath and simple, animal pleasure? 

Is _this_ why I watch them, these two children fumbling in the dark? _Because_ I cannot have what they have? I said I chose not to live in a cage of Clow’s making, but did I then create one of my own, a cage whose bars are regret and whose lock is a longing for something beyond my grasp?

I said I was not a fool. I am not so sure if that’s true any more.

I know I shouldn’t be watching, but it is one way to be less alone.


End file.
